<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Divine Purpose by TheDocK_j2</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389991">A Divine Purpose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDocK_j2/pseuds/TheDocK_j2'>TheDocK_j2</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Plot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:15:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,921</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDocK_j2/pseuds/TheDocK_j2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A Breton barbarian, born under the Ritual and named after the Divine Crusader Pelinal, seeks the Crusader's Relics to avenge the Gods and destroy Umaril. But Umaril's shadow is vast, and his gaze is upon her.</p><p>She will need all of her wits and skills to survive his legions and fulfill her divine purpose!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Divine Purpose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>	A young barbarian knelt before one of the wayshrines to the Nine Divines. She was a humble Breton, born under the Ritual and raised by a wandering tribe of barbarian Bretons from Skyrim. The tribe was known as the Song of Pelinal, and they named her after the ancient knight they sang of. Pelinal loved her tribe dearly, but she felt unfulfilled in her life. She could feel in her soul that she was born for some divine purpose, but the purpose of her birth had eluded her.</p><p>	Then something called her to Cyrodil, to the heart of the Imperial Empire. She left the Song of Pelinal with a horse, a set of leather armor, an enchanted axe, and the blessings of priests. Her strange summons took her to the port-city of Anvil, to a mysterious doomsayer known only as “The Prophet”. The enigmatic madman sent her on a holy quest, to travel the Pilgrim’s Way, gather the Divine Relics of the Nine Divines, and defeat the half-mortal enemy of the gods, Umaril the Unfeathered.</p><p>	This was the divine purpose she sought, and was the reason for her current prayer at one of the wayshrines. The Pilgrim’s Way was a journey questing knights would undertake for guidance. They would travel to each wayshrine, nine in total, and pray to the associated god for guidance. This was the fourth wayshrine, and the first one for trouble to find her. As she knelt to pray, her helmet and axe at her side, a strange sound filled her ears.</p><p>	Her eyes opened to a flaming portal, twice her height in size, and scorching the ground it erupted from. Her hand reached for her axe slowly, unsure what to expect from the blazing chasm. Out from the portal stepped a small party of High Elves, garbed in their unique moonstone armor and special, High Elven blades. There were half-a-dozen of them, and they did not look friendly. Pelinal’s other hand slowly reached for her helmet as a purple outline surrounded her.</p><p>	The one in the very front finally saw her.</p><p>	“There she is!” He shouted to his companions. “Kill her!”</p><p>	Pelinal ducked under the wayshrine as an arrow whizzed past her head. One of the elves rounded around the large shrine, and Pelinal threw her leather helmet at his head, stunning him. Her axe bit deep into the elf’s neck, slicing through his jugular and spraying elven blood everywhere. An arrow pierced her armor, embedding itself in her side. It didn’t pierce her skin however, her Breton heritage protecting her with powerful shield magic.</p><p>	But the magic only lasted a minute each day, and she still had five aggressors. A moonstone arrow bounced off her head, bruising the skin and sure to leave a nasty welt. One of the elves charged Pelinal from behind, his sword swing bouncing off her armor as she swung her axe. His head was separated from his body as Pelinal’s enchanted axe severed the vulnerable flesh.</p><p>	Two down, four to go.</p><p>	A bolt of lightning struck her back, shoving her forward and scorching her leather cuirass. Her Breton blood made her resilient to magic, and her Dragon Skin shield magic only added to her resistances, making the damage purely cosmetic. Pelinal turned and charged the closest High Elf, barely dodging a pair of arrows.</p><p>	Two melee combatants down, one still standing, one magic user, and two archers.</p><p>	The closest elf was the magic user, distinguishable from the others by his brown robes and hood, while still wearing moonstone gauntlets and boots. In his panic, his second lightning bolt went wide, and missed Pelinal. The elf’s robes did very little to stop Pelinal’s axe, cleaving open the High Elf’s stomach. Viscera and entrails fell from the dead mage in a heap of blood and guts.</p><p>	Three dead, three left.</p><p>	Pelinal turned to face the remaining enemies, seeing the fear in their eyes at how quickly and brutally she killed their comrades. The two archers started backpedaling, heading for the still-open portal. The last melee combatant seemed unfazed however, sauntering towards Pelinal with a cocky smile. He lifted an elven greatsword, clearly enchanted by the blue glow.</p><p>	“Such worthless elves, brought low by a measly mortal. Umaril will reward me handsomely when I bring him your head!” The High Elf bellowed. “Stay out of this cowards! The honor of this usurper’s death will be mine alone!”</p><p>	Pelinal charged the boasting warrior, not having the luxury of wasting time. Twenty seconds had already passed since she activated her Dragon Skin, and she couldn’t afford to lose it while the archers lived. Her axe sang a tune of death as it swung to meet elven neck. Her strike was intercepted by the warrior’s greatsword, frost magic leaping from the blade and crystallizing her axe. The moonstone greatsword swung downwards, slamming into Pelinal’s shoulder and freezing the leather.</p><p>	Pelinal let go of her axe, catching it mid-fall with her off-hand, and struck the elf’s chest. The boasting warrior’s armor stopped the axe from splitting his chest wide open, and he lifted his sword for another downward swing. Pelinal’s main hand shot forward and grabbed the blade, the magic frost seeping into her leather gauntlet and numbing her hand, but her grip held. Her off-hand reared backwards, and the would-be champion struggled to pull his sword free. With an adrenaline fueled yell, her magic axe once more sang its tune of death, and another elf head fell to the ground.</p><p>	Four down, two to go.</p><p>	Blood sprayed from the corpse, soaking Pelinal with the elf’s vital essence. The archers looked on in horror. In only half-a-minute, their entire party lay dead at their feet. This was no questing knight they were sent to kill, this was a monster in a mortal shell.</p><p>	Her previously golden hair, short and loose, was now red and dripping with the blood of High Elves. Guts and entrails were splattered against her leggings, stuck to the leather like a gruesome talisman. Her shoulder and main-hand were frozen, yet this still did not phase her. Her axe now had a crystalline head, red in color from all of the blood. And her blue eyes, so bright they could see them from several feet away, promised only death and Oblivion.</p><p>	One of the archers turned and ran, while the other was frozen on the spot. Pelinal’s axe soared through the air, shattering the moonstone helmet and splitting the skull of the archer that ran. The thrown axe flung itself back to Pelinal, a pink outline surrounding the weapon.</p><p>	“B-b-butcher.” The last elf said.</p><p>	“Run.” Pelinal said. “Run away, and tell your masters that I will come for them.”</p><p>	The archer scrambled, nearly slipping on the brain matter and slick blood of his fallen comrade. When the only survivor ran through the flaming gateway, it vanished. A scorch mark was left on the ground, the only sign it had ever been there. The purple outline of Dragon Skin shattered into pieces, the magic shield fading away. Pelinal let out a deep breath and collapsed, splayed out across the grass in a manner similar to a starfish.</p><p>	A sort of tiredness invaded her body, the intense and sudden combat weighing on her mind. Who were they, why did they attack, and why did they say Umaril would reward them for her head? She needed to get to town, clean the blood off, and then continue on her quest. But for the moment, even with the frost numbing her shoulder and hand, Pelinal simply let her eyes close, and allowed sleep to claim her.</p><p>	Several hours later, she awoke to someone checking her neck for a pulse. A Redguard in simple clothes was crouched over her, his hands slick with the elven blood on her neck.</p><p>	“She’s alive Sir Roderic!” The Redguard said.</p><p>	An old Imperial, clad in iron armor and wielding a steel greatsword, entered her peripheral vision.</p><p>	“Is this field of corpses your handiwork?” Sir Roderic said.</p><p>	Her axe slowly slid across the grass, the handle slipping into her extended off-hand. She had no idea who these people were, and the last group of strangers attacked her on sight.</p><p>	“Yes.” Pelinal said, her hand grasping her axe.</p><p>	“We checked the bodies, servants of Umaril, the lot of them.”</p><p>	Pelinal’s grip on her axe loosened as Roderic spoke, realizing he must be questing like she was.</p><p>	“Are you a fellow knight, seeking the Crusader’s Relics?”</p><p>	“I am, my name is Pelinal.”</p><p>	“Like the Divine Crusader?” The Redguard said, joining the conversation. Roderic, however, looked angered at hearing her name.</p><p>	“You would take up the name of Pelinal Whitestrake without gathering the Crusader’s Relics, have you no shame?” Roderic said. This made Pelinal furious as she scrambled to her feet, axe tightly gripped.</p><p>	“My name is Pelinal, from the tribe Song of Pelinal. To insult my name is to insult my family.” Pelinal pointed her axe at the old Imperial. “I will only let this slide once.”</p><p>	The Redguard stood between the two questing knights, his arms raised to placate the still-blood-covered Breton.</p><p>	“My master didn’t mean anything by it, Sir Pelinal! It’s just… not many people know about the Divine Crusader or his deeds. To hear that a tribe still sing the Song of Pelinal is news to us.”</p><p>	“Thank you, Lathon. My squire speaks true, I meant no disrespect to your tribe. I simply didn’t know anyone else even knew about Pelinal before the murders in Anvil.” Roderic said. “Let me make it up to you, Bravil is only a couple hours away and I must make good on my apology.”</p><p>	“Fine.” Pelinal said, lowering her axe. “I won’t turn down your apology. Lead the way.”</p><p>	Sure enough, a couple of hours later the trio found themselves inside Bravil’s inn. Their horses were stabled outside, Pelinal managed to clean herself with the inn’s bath, and Roderic paid for everything. Her armor still had cuts and a large scorch-mark on the back, but it was still functional. The frost enchanted greatsword the boasting warrior used hung off of Pelinal’s back, his loss her gain. She was initially going to sell it for the money needed for room and drink, but Roderic was adamant on apologizing.</p><p>	The three of them sat around a table, food and drink lay out before them. Pelinal indulged herself in ale, celebrating the fact she survived while outnumbered six-to-one.</p><p>	“Sir Pelinal.” Roderic said.</p><p>	“Yes?” Pelinal said, red in the face and tipsy with alcohol.</p><p>	“Would you be willing to join us on the Pilgrim’s Way?”</p><p>	“Considering I was attacked for simply praying, I’d say it would be foolish of me to decline your offer. I accept.”</p><p>	“Very good to hear, we’ll leave at noon tomorrow.” </p><p>	The trio retired to their rooms, the day’s events weighing on Pelinal. Magic portals, elves loyal to Umaril, and fellow knights questing on the Pilgrim’s Way. It was all very exciting, and very worrying. Why did they attack her on sight, where did they come from, how did they know to find her, and most worrying of all, why did Umaril specifically want her dead?</p><p>	These were questions she would find answers for later. Tonight she rested, and tomorrow she would continue her quest. With companions at her side, Pelinal was more confidant in her ability to reach all nine wayshrines. She had to reach them, she could feel it in her soul, she needed to be victorious.</p><p>	If she failed, all of Tamriel would fall.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the first chapter of my story, I already have a series of events planned out that just need to be written. I'll try to upload weekly, hopefully every Sunday at the latest. This first chapter is a little short—I know—but I felt that further events would fit better in a second chapter.</p><p>That's all for now. Please, leave all comments and critiques in the comments below and I'll probably reply!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>